Jak and Daxter: Twin Selves
by Prawns
Summary: Post Jak X, Jak, Keira and Daxter find themselves thrown into a parallel timeline with a new enemy to contend with! But who is manipulating them from beyond the shadows?


Daxter could feel the bass from the club's speakers rippling through his body. His fur was slick with sweat, his leather pants all but glued to his legs. But he dared not stop dancing – there were too many ladies to woo, and his reputation was at stake. His current flavour of the hour was Tanya, a gorgeous brunette with a sense of style and a tattoo in her "special place". Rawwwr, thought Daxter. Dynamite!

Tess, Daxter's girlfriend of the month, was less impressed by the woman intruding on her turf. But she wasn't very impressed by anything at the moment; it is hard to pass judgement when one is sprawled on a bar counter, sleeping off two dozen tequila shots. You had to hand it to her, Tess wasn't a quitter – unfortunately, her liver was.

In the booths lining the dancefloor, couples cuddled, among other things. A crescent-shaped bar cut through the club, where waiters churned out ever-varying cocktails and spirits for the stylish customers, beer for the less so. The strobe lighting created a kaleidoscope of colours, beating and flashing as if to give the music life. High up in his booth, the DJ switched LPs – now it was time for some techno. The multitude of dancers swayed into the new beat with barely a second thought – only the good dancers got into this club.

The less fortunate (or, to be more accurate, less beautiful) of the Naughty Ottsell's clientele queued outside, the line stretching alone the dockside. Everyone was dying to see what Daxter, the city-famous smooth talker and babe magnet, had done with his club. They were not to be disappointed (after queuing for two hours, that is).

Surprisingly, some of the budding entrepreneur's best friends weren't partying with him – not that Daxter would notice. Jak and Keira had snuck out after only an hour – they were dying to be alone together, and Daxter was usually glued to Jak's shoulder. So, after staying just long enough to fade into the crowd, they slipped out the back door. No-one paid them even a passing glance, and for that Jak was grateful. He had had far too much attention these last few years. Saving the city, getting thrown out, saving it again, becoming a celebrity racing driver; it was like there was a yearly peril – maybe the bad guys had a rota worked out or something? Keira laughed when she heard his idea, though she admitted it had a certain funny logic to it.

That conversation carried them to the bridge. The moon reflected beautifully in the still waters. A cool breeze drifted across the cast stillness, adding a not unpleasant sharpness to the air. Back in Sandover Village, the chirping of crickets would have filled the air. As it was a silence had fallen across the place – another pang for home. However good life was here in Haven, you just couldn't beat the countryside, mused Jak. Gazing out over the Port brought other, stranger thoughts to the fore of his mind. For example, Jak wondered how a port without an opening onto the sea could be called a port. Wouldn't "The Pond" be a better name? This resulted in another fit of giggles.

"Jak, you crack me – whoah!" Keira almost slipped over the edge of the bridge. Steadying herself, she tried to regain her composure. One look at Jak's shocked expression almost sent her over the edge again. "Hey, you. Sit down beside me."

Thump. Jak landed heavily beside Keira. He craned his head back, staring at the stars. On a night light like this the skies had an almost magical aura about them. People's fates were written in the stars, they said. If you looked hard enough, you might just find out something.

The girl shifted herself just a little closer to the petrified boy at her side. Wordlessly, his hand drifted across to hers. They sat there in the night, the silence expressing more than words possibly could. Keira leaned over to him, but drew back a little, uncertain. Jak touched her face, comforting her with his eyes, and leaned in closer still. Above them, a shooting star careered across the skyline, marking the start of a new beginning.

"Waiter! The usual for me, and two more for the ladies here. So," schmoozed Daxter, chin resting on his joined fingers, "how you two finding the party?" Giggles issued from the two across the table.

"Great atmosphere, eh, if I don't say so myself." Something wasn't quite right; even bubbly girls didn't giggle this much. "Uhm… You have a face like a diseased walrus!"

Bingo. Language barrier. Not in the mood to decipher pidgin English, Daxter excused himself from the table and went to find Tess. She'd been around a while ago, but Daxter hadn't seen her in about an hour. She'd seemed kind of mad at him… Maybe he should apologise. Yeah, thought Daxter. I'm not really sure what I've done but apologising for something usually makes her feel better.

Daxter wove through the crowd as he sought out the storage room, where Tess usually hung out when the atmosphere became too much. The crowd had begun to thin out by now. All the regulars (Sig, Ashelin, Torn, Onin – the usual suspects) hung on, determined to see Daxter's party to the end, but the other clientele were calling it a night. Even the twentysomethings were starting to pack up. Walking past a "No Entry" sign, which hid the club's stock from prying eyes, Daxter thought he heard a beep, strangely at odds with the low hum of the coolers and the throb of the club's speakers. It was a sharp, insistent noise. It wanted to be heard.

Tess momentarily forgotten, he decided to investigate. Just inside the door was a wine rack, for the few who insisted on a "civilised" drink. Daxter clambered up the sides and hopped on top of its peak. From his vantage point he scoured the room. Nothing. Maybe it was just his imagination.

But there it was again! That beep. Now that he was closer, he could pinpoint where it came from – right beside him! Scurrying down the sides, he dropped lithely to the floor and slithered under the beer cooler. He only had time to say "Oh sh-" before the bomb exploded, taking half the club with it.


End file.
